Advocate

I've always said I find it very hard to be my own advocate. I've always found writing, speaking or otherwise drawing attention to myself and the injustices I feel as a gay man to be very difficult. In part, I have a keen understanding that my level of persecution is minute compared to so many persecutions in the world. It's really hyperbolic to call anything I've experience "persecution," especially when placed next to the various genocidal campaigns practiced in just the last decade or so. In that light, it's really ludicrous to call any experience in my life "persecution."

But I will stick with "injustice." I think there are many ways that I've been taught that I'm intrinsically bad (disordered, mentally ill, whatever euphemism you might prefer) that has unjustly hindered my life in many ways, from career choices to things more subtle that are harder to discuss.

Despite this being the case, however, has not made me one to "stick up for myself" or defend myself in the way that many activists do. When I've tried to be an advocate for anyone, it's generally for poor or hungry people. The charities to which I donate most often tend to be charities that work for the poor and hungry of the world (one of my favorite being the Lutheran World Relief, and not just because it's Lutheran---they have a remarkably high ratings when it comes to how far they take a dollar to the people they serve). In fact, I tend to find being an advocate for the poor and hungry to be much more important than being an advocate for myself. I'm hardly wealthy, but I've gone hungry without choosing to.

So this blog, as we approach the midpoint of lent, is becoming harder because I really find this difficult to do. I may have said it in this blog (I know I've said it somewhere), but I'll repeat it. The reason I'm doing this blog now---as well as trying to do some other more activist sorts of things in preparation for the ELCA Churchwide Assembly in August---is because it suddenly occurred to me that if the measures before the assembly fail, it could mean another generation will grow up in a church that gave the same contradictory messages I received growing up. GLBT ordination and same-sex weddings are almost beside the point. GLBT kids growing up in the next 20 years really shouldn't have to feel like they're second class Christians in this church. It isn't that they'll all want to be ordained or even get married---it's about being told that if you felt called to that life, it was available to you because you're acceptable to God and acceptable to the church. Finding that acceptance is key to the next generation of GLBT youth growing up with fewer terrors of losing their faith or family or life for something they didn't choose.

So, the reason I'm doing this blog is less about me and my sexuality, it's about the kids who are being born right now who will grow up to be GLB or T.

And for that reason, consider this blog entry a plea to any straight people reading. This is about the children you'll be/are creating (seeing as how I'm not going to procreate). This is about kids who need more than very special episodes of sitcoms or even whole TV series starring gay characters. They need a spiritual home that the larger culture can't give them. They need a place to meet potential mates and a community that will support their relationships---just like the straight kids get---so they don't turn to communities that offer little spirituality and promote serial relationships, if not outright disregard for relationships.

So the plea is---becomes advocates for GLBT people. As we approach the Churchwide Assembly, find out who the representatives are from your synod and write to them polite, reasoned letters, asking them to be advocates, too. Before that, do the same with your individual synod assemblies.

This affects me less and less as I get older. This matters very much to the kids who don't even know it matters to them yet.